


marriage memes

by watfordbird33



Series: codependent, disinclined [2]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Cute boys, Fluff, Graduate School, Lofty!Baz, M/M, Reunions, Sour Cherry Scones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watfordbird33/pseuds/watfordbird33
Summary: snow: come home I miss youbaz: I’ve got a flight in two days.snow: Come home NOWbaz: Your complete disregard for my education is /so/ flattering.





	marriage memes

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another late-night unedited Snowbaz mess, and the usual warnings apply. Language, crude humor, sexual content (yes, there is smut), et cetera. If you've read my stuff before, you'll know what to expect. :)

About five years after Baz graduates Watford, Snow starts sending winky faces disproportionately often and bringing up cute couples who had cute marriage proposals and cute weddings and are now living together cutely doing cute things nonstop.

And it’s…

Well, it’s something.

What Baz is most amazed by (although he shouldn’t be, Snow being Snow) is that Snow somehow manages to do this despite their relationship becoming a long-distance one. The long-distance part is not by choice--Baz went to graduate school in America, and Snow didn’t have the funds to follow--but Baz also assumed it would be a sort of welcomed cooldown, after the couple of years he spent in Snow’s flat. Those years are ones he remembers when he is well and truly alone and can have a nice wank to Nick Cave and one of Snow’s photographs. 

But it is proving to be the exact opposite of a cooldown, what with Snow Skyping every other hour, and all sorts of wildly inappropriate texts sent at two a.m. Of course, Baz doesn’t mind at all, but he’d never tell Simon that. It’s the sort of thing that’s meant to stay safe behind a sneer.

 

**snow:** BAZ BAZ OKAY DID YOU KNOW

**baz:** No.

**snow:** KANYE PROPOSED TO KIM AND THERE WERE FIREWORKS AND

**baz:** I hope you recognize that you’re  _ not subtle. _

 

On one of their all-too-frequent Skype sessions, Snow has his wings unspelled and his curls pulled up in a man bun, which is appallingly attractive, and also kind of makes Baz want to die. He keeps staring at the bun and missing what Snow is trying to tell him.

“And then the class sucked but not too bad because there was this  _ cute  _ guy--”

_ “What,”  _ Baz says, sharply, snapping back to reality.

Snow starts laughing, and. Baz hates him. He hates him. He loves him. He really does. Attractive man bun and incompetent texting and all.

“I’m kidding.”

“I know,” Baz says, very suave, and it sets Snow off again. 

Baz sort of wants to punch him in the face. He supposes long-distance is good for one thing, in that his chances of getting hauled in for domestic assault have diminished a shocking amount. Can’t really push someone down the stairs over Skype.

 

**snow:** look at this cute picture of these adorably cute dogs having a dog wedding!

**baz:** TOO FUCKING FAR

 

It’s in June of Baz’s first year at graduate school (nine months since they’ve been separated, not that Baz is counting), when Snow Skypes him at one a.m. The bastard doesn’t even have the excuse of it being a suitably decent time in London.

“Baz?”

“Snow,” Baz says, wearily, not lifting his face from the pillow. He has it set to audio only, but Snow’s on video, and he’s wearing a worried expression as he peers out from the laptop screen.

“Do you still like me?”

They don’t say  _ I love you.  _ Baz thinks he’s said it once, in their six-year mess of a relationship. That’s just fine with him.

“What the fuck?” he says.

“You’re just--um, I feel like I’m--all the stuff I’ve been sending you, you know--”

This leaves Baz in a tricky position: he has to tell Snow he is still absolutely one-hundred-percent in love with him, and not put him off sending more winky faces, while maintaining a sneer and a reputation.

He thinks about it for maybe ten seconds, and then he just decides to fuck it all. Because he’s Baz. And this is his boyfriend.  _ (His boyfriend, Simon Snow.)  _ And he can do these sorts of things.

“Fuck you,” he says (benevolently enough, he thinks); “you’re the most absolutely gorgeously fucked-up insane and lovely human being I’ve ever met and will ever meet. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in the world.”

There’s this long, long silence, and eventually Baz manages to drag his bright-red face up from the pillow to check the screen.

And. The  _ bastard. _

Snow’s hung up on him.

 

**snow:** I’M CRYING PLEASE SEND LOVE KISSES AND SEX

**baz:** You hung up on me.

**snow:** yEEAHHH BECAUSE I WAS GOING TO START MAKING NOISES

**baz:** What kind of noises?

**snow:** ;)

**baz:** ...dear gOD

**snow:** Call me back

 

So he calls Snow back. And just for kicks, he leaves it on video.

“I love you,” is the first thing Snow says, so loudly that the screen pixelates. “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.”

“Aleister Crowley, Snow; tell the world, why don’t you?”

“You said it! You said it like you mean it!”

“I  _ do  _ mean it. It’s been fucking six years, hasn’t it?”

“I thought maybe you were just--I thought--I was annoying you--I--”

Baz sighs the sigh of someone who has been dealing with Simon Snow for a very long time, and knows exactly how to handle him. He’s proud of the fact that only one other person in the world besides him possesses this specific sigh. “Go to sleep. It’s one.”

_ “There. _ It’s daytime, here.”

“It’s--” Baz checks. “Fucking  _ seven _ . Go to sleep.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Really?”

“You send me pictures of dogs getting married.”

Snow stabs a finger at the screen. “So you  _ do  _ like it!”

“Go. The fuck. To bed.”

“Yes, my love. Anything for you. I love you! Goodnight!”

Baz flips him off, because he can’t help it, and then he hangs up. When the screen’s gone blank, and he’s lifted the laptop down to the floor, he smashes his face back into the pillow and whispers  _ I love you, too  _ until he falls asleep.

 

**snow:** come home I miss you

**baz:** I’ve got a flight in two days.

**snow:** Come home NOW

**baz:** Your complete disregard for my education is  _ so _ flattering.

 

The trip home is conducted on of those planes with an cast of inhabitants designed specifically to drive one mad. By the end of it, Baz is determined to strangle the four-year-old sitting next to him, and the fat man with the hacking cough a seat behind. He swears he’ll track them down and kill them in their sleep.

(And he wonders why TSA pulled him aside.)

Snow is not waiting at the gate, because he’s perpetually baffled by the navigation within the London airport, and has a hard time with the escalators. It’s a source of constant amusement with Baz. He’ll climb any escalator he can find when he’s with Snow.

Snow  _ is  _ waiting at baggage claim, though (looking the other way), and when Baz sees him his heart gives this backward somersault and he almost starts running. He has to remind himself that now that there are other people around, he has to preserve some semblence of his reputation.

(But. It’s Snow. And he’s wearing a man bun. And he spelled his own wings so tidy and clean. And his shirt--one Baz and Penny bought him, a few months after Watford--is unbuttoned to his chest. And Baz wants to kiss him, whisper to him, hug him, make love to him, hold him in his arms. He wants to--)

Baz walks at a very respectable, sedate pace across the tiled floor, comes up behind Snow, and says, with his best sneer, “Wrong way, tosser.”

And.

_ Oh. _

They have never embraced this hard ever, ever--not even after Snow killed the Mage and Baz was holding him up and the whole world was coming down across their shoulders. They have never held each other so close and tight before.

_ “Baz,” _ Snow says, muffled, into Baz’s shoulder, and Baz’s throat tightens. “I  _ missed you.” _

“We Skyped every hour,” Baz snipes, but all the same, when Snow’s head comes up, he pulls him into a kiss he’s been missing for months. “And texted,” he adds, when they’re finished, “during all the other hours.”

Snow sniffles.

“Are you going to  _ cry?” _

“Baz--I--I won’t be--” He swipes fiercely at his cheek. “I won’t be able to send you marriage memes anymore.”

And he fucking breaks down in tears.

 

**snow:** Dinner out tonight?

**baz:** No. I’m cooking.

**snow:** cooking whaaatttttt i’m TIRED AND I WANT CHEAP PIZZA

**baz:** A lamb custard with creme de lucuhwkyufefh and a light garnish of eygygwefhb.

**snow:** fuck u

**baz:** That may also happen.

**snow:** …..ON MY WAY

 

Baz makes a red curry, and assigns Snow to minute rice, and then he bakes scones with the sugar left out because he’s curious if Snow will actually eat them.

He does. After dinner, when they’re sprawled on the couch in the living room, watching a Normal show that may or may not have vampires in it, Snow eats five of the things, only commenting lazily after a while that  _ They’re not your best. _

“No,” Baz agrees, deadpan; “no, not really.”

He is way too pleased with himself, and Snow exploits this ruthlessly, by turning off the show and burying his face (scone-smeared) in Baz’s chest. Baz puts an arm around him because there’s nobody else here to care. And also because he’s missed this feeling: Snow against him, wings tight and bony in his hands.

Snow says something very muffled into Baz’s shirt.

“What was that?”

“Kiss me,” Snow says, very clearly, lifting his face. His cheeks are rouged and he’s got this look in his eye like,  _ Ravish me, you gorgeous sexy vampire,  _ which might just be Baz projecting but then again, who knows.

Baz forgets about it and kisses Snow instead.

And then the kissing turns into a lot of other stuff, like Snow rubbing Baz’s stomach and Baz making the sorts of noises he’d make alone in his dorm room with the lights off and his hand down the front of his pants. He hasn’t had sex for nine months so it’s really very understandable, the noises. And not embarrassing at all. That’s what he tells himself as he gets Snow’s shirt off and then his own. 

Snow’s put on weight, and Baz moves down to press kisses into his newly soft stomach. He likes this, even though Snow seems to be a little self-conscious about it. Then he kind of stops being self-conscious, though, and just moans, because Baz has both sets of trousers off and Snow’s pants halfway down his legs and both his hands are  _ very, very  _ occupied. And  _ oh.  _

_ Oh. _

“I love you,” Baz says, pretty garbled, because now his mouth’s occupied too. So it kind of comes out like  _ gyfuew. _

“Baz,” Snow says, and jerks, once, twice, and Baz shakes with him and they’re together and together and together and  _ oh _ \-- _ there, yes, OH. _

Oh.

 

**snow:** did you know that sometimes i stare at your ass?

**snow:** it’s a very dirty horrible secret and i’m really sorry. please don’t kill me

**baz:** SNOW I HAVE HAD YOUR DICK IN MY MOUTH

**snow:** and other places too :)

 

“That was nice,” Snow says, when they’ve wiped themselves off a little, and spelled the couch clean, and oriented themselves horizontal and more or less comfortable.

_ Nice  _ is not exactly the adjective Baz would have used to describe that experience. It was more like  _ mind-blowing.  _ Or maybe just  _ let’s do it again. _

“You’ve lost your touch,” he says airily.

“That means I was wonderful,” Snow says, with the utmost confidence.

“Mind-blowing,” Baz agrees, helpless and sleepy.

“As usual.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I won’t. I’ve got you to do it for me.”

Baz is trying to think of a good comeback, but it becomes sort of impossible when Snow starts tracing patterns on his arm. He gets mesmerized watching Snow’s slender fingers slide up and down.

M...A...R…

Baz catches his breath.

Y...M...E

“You spelled  _ marry  _ wrong,” Baz informs Snow, and is kind of surprised that his voice doesn’t crack.

“I--what?”

Snow’s fingers have stilled.

Baz says, “It has two R’s.”

He waits for Snow to look down at his arm, then back up, full into Baz’s face.

“Also,” Baz says. “Yes.”

 

**baz:** Not going to lie...I wanted to beat you to it.

**snow:** i’M STILL SALTY ABT MISSPELLING IT

**baz:** It’s a metaphor for our relationship.

**snow:** FUCKED-UP AND BEAUTIFUL

**baz:** Just fucked-up.

**snow:** NOT       TRU

**snow:** ,,,hubby ;)

**baz:** …

**baz:** we’re not married  _ yet. _


End file.
